she reflected on what she’d just agreed to. Juliet wanted to have fun; Maggie wanted to be happy.
She didn’t want to be lonely but she very much doubted that Ben McMahon held the key to her happiness. She shrugged her shoulders. She supposed she had nothing to lose by flirting a little. What was the worst that could happen?
Maggie hesitated over applying make-up the next morning as she got ready to take Juliet for her first post-op appointment with Dr McMahon. Ben.
She wasn’t as completely out of practice as Juliet might think. It had been years after Steven had died before she’d even contemplated dating but she had been on a few dates in the past five years. It was just that she hadn’t enjoyed them particularly. When that was the case she couldn’t see the point of continuing to date, of waiting to see if she ‘grew to like them’. She knew she wouldn’t, so while she had dated, it could certainly be said she hadn’t had a proper relationship since Steven had died.
She reminded herself that the aim of today wasn’t to get Ben to ask her out on a date; she just needed to make a little light conversation, just to show she was trying. She didn’t necessarily want to draw attention to herself but she decided a bit of make-up might help her feel more in control of the situation.
Her hand shook as she tried to apply her lipgloss. She was as nervous as she could ever remember being. All because she was supposed to flirt with a gorgeous man! She ignored the eyeshadow, thinking it would be overkill for a morning appointment, and just put some eye drops into her eyes to dull any traces of red. She brushed her dark hair until it shone and debated over whether to tie it up but in the end she left it down, falling over her shoulders. The brushstrokes were relaxing but she was still terrified she’d embarrass herself despite Juliet’s assurances that men would either be flattered by, or ignorant of, her methods.
Maybe if she failed spectacularly Juliet would let her off the hook. She thought she might prefer being lonely to being terrified.
But she needed to at least look as though she was trying. And she was still a woman—she still wanted to see if she could catch a man’s eye, even if she wasn’t quite sure what she wanted to do next. Everyone’s ego needed a boost now and then; she wasn’t really any different to the next person. She decided to make an effort.
She searched through her clothes looking for a bra that wasn’t more than three years old and that managed to lift her boobs back up to somewhere close to where they used to be. She pulled a dress out of the wardrobe, holding it in front of her—too fancy for a doctor’s appointment she decided. Jeans? Too casual. She swapped the jeans for a skirt that gave a little bit of shape to her boyish figure and put on a fitted T-shirt—white—to make it look as if her boobs were bigger than they really were. That looked better. Finally she was ready.
Maggie sat in the waiting room, convinced everyone could hear her heart hammering in her chest. She wiped her clammy hands on her skirt and looked for something to distract her.
‘What do you think of these?’
Maggie glanced at the photograph in the magazine her sister was holding.
‘Pamela Anderson! Is that what you chose?’ Maggie knew her younger sister had gotten the flamboyant gene whereas she’d inherited the conservative one but, even so, she hadn’t expected her to choose to be quite so out there. ‘You’re not serious! I thought you wanted to look like the old you?’
Juliet grinned at her. ‘You’re right, classy, not brassy. I picked out boobs that look more like Kate Winslet’s.’ Juliet turned back a page and showed Maggie another photo.
‘Huh!’
‘What?’ Juliet asked.
‘I didn’t realise when you said the “old you,” you really meant the “young you.” Kate’s boobs look like yours did in your teens, not what they looked like in your thirties after a couple of kids!’ Maggie couldn’t resist teasing her sister; some light-hearted banter was just what she needed to distract her from Juliet’s ‘mission.’
‘You think her boobs are too good for me?’
‘Not at all, it’s just that they’re not at all saggy.’
Juliet took the magazine back and had another look at the photo, her forehead creasing a little as she studied it. ‘Why is that, do you think? She’s had two kids as well.’ She paused, tilting her head slightly to one side. ‘Could be a flattering angle or a good bra.’
‘Or she could have had work done,’ Maggie said.
‘That does it, I’m definitely getting boobs like hers, then—particularly if they look natural and they’re not! Not much point in saggy new boobs.’
Maggie glanced down at her own chest. She’d never been more than a B-cup and she’d never considered being anything else—as long as everything worked, that was all that mattered, as far as she was concerned. But even though she wasn’t about to change her own body, which had served her well for forty-two years, she could see Juliet’s point. ‘I suppose, if you’re going to have a breast reconstruction, you might as well get what you want.’
‘My thoughts exactly.’ Juliet chuckled.
‘Come through, Juliet.’ Ben appeared in the waiting room and Maggie was surprised by the pull of attraction she felt. He was wearing a white shirt with no tie; his collar was open at his throat, and as Maggie stood she could see a smattering of dark hair below his collarbones. ‘You sound in good spirits.’
‘Just showing Maggie which boobs I’ve ordered.’ Juliet gestured towards her sister. ‘You remember Maggie, don’t you?’
‘Of course. Are you feeling the pressure of providing a second opinion?’ His eyes met hers, holding her attention. There was something in the way he looked at her that made her go weak at the knees. She got the feeling he could read her mind, could see into her soul. Her heartbeat increased its pace.
She couldn’t do this! She knew she’d get flustered and make a fool of herself. There was an energy that surrounded him, and she was much too attracted to him to flirt comfortably. In the two weeks since she’d seen him she’d forgotten just how good-looking he was.
But he was waiting for her response. She said the first thing that popped into her head. ‘Someone had to make sure Juliet didn’t end up looking like Pamela Anderson.’ She went for levity in her reply in an attempt to break the spell Ben seemed to have over her. If she could crack a joke maybe she’d be able to breathe again and maybe her heart would be able to return to its normal rhythm.
So far, so good. Her voice sounded normal, no squeaks or breathlessness.
He smiled. There was a definite sparkle in his eyes and that was all it took for her heart to start racing again. ‘That was an option?’ he asked as he led them through to his office.
She answered quickly while his back was turned, before he had another opportunity to throw her off kilter. ‘Not for long!’
‘Don’t tell fibs, Mags,’ Juliet said as she sat in one of the chairs in front of Ben’s desk and placed the magazine on the table, tapping a photograph. ‘I’d like to look like Kate Winslet, please.’
Ben picked up the magazine. ‘Kate Winslet? What do you think, Maggie?’ He lifted his gaze to hers, his blue eyes focusing on her and making her stomach somersault. If he kept looking at her like that she’d never be able to answer.
She tore her gaze away, concentrating on the photograph. ‘Far more suitable than Pamela,’ she replied.
‘Pamela might have been fun though,’ Juliet said.
‘I’m sure you’d find those boobs more annoying than fun after a while, not to mention the backache.’ That was better. She should concentrate on Juliet; she could talk to her like a normal person!
‘Oh, Mags, you’re such a sensible older sister.’
‘Be nice or I’ll